


For Unto Us a Child Is Born

by Deastar



Series: They Say Love Heals All Wounds [22]
Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Psychics/Psionics, Best Hips, Christmas Fluff, Established Relationship, In-Laws, M/M, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-24
Updated: 2019-12-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:37:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21938134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deastar/pseuds/Deastar
Summary: When Geno’s parents finally arrive, Geno picks them up at the Halifax airport while Sid waits at the house and tries not to go out of his mind with nerves.
Relationships: Sidney Crosby/Evgeni Malkin
Series: They Say Love Heals All Wounds [22]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/486689
Comments: 106
Kudos: 311





	For Unto Us a Child Is Born

**Author's Note:**

> Merry Christmas to those who celebrate it, and happy holidays and a very happy 2020 to all! It's so wild to me to realize that I've been posting this series since May 2016, and I'm so thrilled that folks still want to read it and come along on this journey with me. Thank you all so much!

After the Lucic hit—after everything explodes—Sid considers himself to have two jobs: to keep playing hockey, and to take care of Geno. Everything else gets delegated. That includes the whole process of getting Geno’s parents out of Russia and arranging for them to stay permanently in the U.S.

Immigration stuff is Pat and J.P.’s job, they do this all the time—although usually not for parents of their players—and they’re good at it. The only things Sid could contribute would be anxiety and guilt, and he doesn’t think either of those would be very useful. So Sid just lets go of that whole situation, and trusts that their agents will take care of it. All he knows is that it takes a surprisingly long time to bring Vladimir and Natalia to North America, and that every day of delay makes Geno more miserable.

“They lose everything because of me,” Geno whispers into the hollow of Sid’s collarbone, curled up on the couch, tear tracks drying on his face. “Lose home, lose friends, lose country – and now they living in hotel, no home…”

Sid cups his hand around the back of Geno’s head and tucks his chin down to press a kiss to Geno’s hairline. He doesn’t say _Be patient_ or _It’ll be okay_, because he doesn’t know if it’ll be okay and he sure as fuck wouldn’t be patient if it were his parents. “I love you,” he whispers back, instead, because that’s never the wrong thing to say.

When Geno’s parents do finally arrive, the playoffs are over and Sid and Geno are already in Canada. Geno picks them up at the Halifax airport while Sid tries not to go out of his mind with nerves waiting at the house. He’s keenly aware that all the things that Vladimir and Natalia have lost are gone as a direct result of _his_ actions and _his_ choices, and he wouldn’t blame them for a second if they resented him.

When they walk in the door, all three Malkins are free of luggage, so there’s nothing for Sid to offer to carry, no distraction from the fraught emotional weight of the moment. He makes eye contact with Geno, and Geno must be able to read how unsettled Sid is, because he says right away, “It’s okay, Sid. Um, you know Mama and Papa.”

“Yes,” Sid fumbles, stuffing his hands in his pockets and then wishing he hadn’t. “I, um, hi, welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Malkin.”

Geno’s mom walks up to Sid right away and puts her hands on his upper arms, as if holding him still. Looking him right in the eye, she says quietly, “Sid. No ‘Mrs. Malkin.’ You say ‘Mama,” and then she finishes the sentence in Russian.

Sid can’t look away from Geno’s mother’s face. “Geno, what did she—”

“She say… she say you her son now,” Geno translates, in a voice so soft and ragged that Sid can barely understand him. But he does understand, and it takes his breath away.

He wishes there were some equal gesture he could make, something that would approach the magnitude of what it means to him to be offered a place in this family, here in their moment of greatest upheaval. When Geno’s parents would have every reason to close the curtains and keep what little familiarity and tradition they have for themselves, they’ve thrown open the doors and welcomed him to share what they have. Nothing he could do could ever make it up to them.

“_Spasibo_,” Sid says, though his throat feels like it’s tied in knots and his eyes are burning. He can’t see Geno’s mother’s face through his unshed tears. “Thank you so much. I’ll… I’ll try to be a good son. I’ll always do my best.”

Geno translates, presumably, and Sid blinks away those tears, and when Geno is done, his mother smiles up at Sid and pats his cheek. “Good,” she says, and nods.

Sid takes that promise very seriously – whatever his father may think of him, Sid _has_ always tried hard to be a good son, and he feels a powerful sense of responsibility toward Geno’s parents. He introduces them to his own parents the next day, and the four of them get along surprisingly well, considering the Crosbys don’t speak any Russian and the Malkins barely speak any English. Sid is worried about how his dad will come off, since he still doesn’t like or approve of Geno and doesn’t make any bones about it, but his dad’s disapproval of Geno doesn’t seem to have rubbed off on Geno’s parents – he’s unfailingly courteous and welcoming to the Malkins, and Sid breathes a big sigh of relief. He should have expected it, he supposes: if there’s anything his father respects, it’s a willingness to make sacrifices for your loved ones, and the Malkins have definitely done that.

When they move back to Pittsburgh at the beginning of the next season, the Malkins come with them, and Geno is able to buy the house just kitty-corner from their own for his parents to live in. They don’t come over to Sid and Geno’s very often, and never without calling ahead, but they love to invite some combination of Sid, Geno, and the Gonchars over for dinner. Sid also helps connect them with a soup kitchen, and pops in to join them for their shifts every so often, so he knows they’re making friends and not sitting around the house getting bored. He also asks, fumbling with Google Translate, if Natalia would please teach him to cook Geno’s favorite foods, to which she responds with an English “Yes” and then a rhapsody in Russian that Sid’s pretty sure translates as something like, “Finally! I thought you’d never ask!”

The time Sid spends with Natalia learning to make the perfect _plov_, or painstakingly wrapping _golubtsi_, reminds him of some of the happiest times in his childhood, in the kitchen with his own mom. Natalia is a patient but exacting teacher, and she doesn’t see their lack of a shared language as any reason why Sid shouldn’t be able to follow her instructions precisely. When he doesn’t know the word for something in Russian, she teaches him, and when she wants to know the English word for something, she asks him. Little by little, they each expand their vocabulary of the other’s language, and Sid gets better at working with Russian ingredients and techniques. In truth, most of the time, they don’t even need to talk – she demonstrates, and then corrects him with her hands on his.

It’s only natural, then, for the two of them to collaborate on snacks for Sid’s annual holiday party for the team and staff. It’s the first time he hasn’t had it totally catered, and the hours in the kitchen producing a dozen golden-brown _charlotka_ are all worth it when he sees the pride on Natalia’s face as she watches Sid and Geno’s teammates and their families enjoy the treats they made together.

The party is a zoo, like always, full of running, shrieking children and raucous laughter from the—sometimes tipsy—adults. Sid loves it – loves having his home full of his people, and _their_ people, who are by extension Sid’s people, too. And, of course, he loves having the kids around, not least because Geno gets so goofy and sweet around them.

It’s actually while Sid is watching Geno zoom Scarlett around in the air like an airplane—both of them grinning madly—that Sid notices Natalia leaving the living room in a hurry, looking upset.

When he tracks her down, she’s in one of the guest bedrooms, looking out the window with her hands propped on the sill, facing away from the door. He wishes, for the millionth time, that he could read her feelings and know whether she wants to talk or wants to be alone. Without that cue, all he can do is ask.

“Mama?” he tries.

She turns to face him. Even in the dim winter afternoon light seeping through the window, the sadness smudged across her face is plain, and it hurts Sid.

Quietly, he asks, “Mama, what’s wrong?”

She draws in a breath and lets it out. He can see that she’s thinking something through—deciding whether or not she wants to talk about it, or whether it’s worth trying in English, he’s guessing—and he doesn’t rush her.

Eventually, she says, “Sid… you my son. And you love Zhenya. And Zhenya love you. It’s good. I know. Okay?”

Sid is—well, maybe more surprised than he should be. Yes, she’d called him her son, which carries at least some level of acceptance, and her reaction to Sid’s request to learn to cook for Geno pretty strongly implied that she saw him as filling the same role as a daughter-in-law. But she hadn’t wanted to live in their house, even though they had the space and Geno had wanted his parents there. Geno had taken that decision as an implicit rejection, and he’d told Sid he’s felt a kind of distance from his parents—both of them—since they’d learned of his relationship with Sid. Certainly Natalia has never said anything this plainly approving to Geno – Geno would have told him about it.

“I—um, I’m glad you feel that way,” Sid manages, his voice only shaking a little. “But then… why are you sad?”

“Is good, Zhenya with you,” she repeats. She leans back against the windowsill slightly and says, in a quieter voice, “Just… I see Zhenya now. With childs. And I’m sad little.” She looks at the ground. “You know?”

Sid still doesn’t understand. His own mom has mentioned that sometimes she misses when Sid was a little boy – maybe this is like that?

Natalia must see Sid’s confusion on his face; she sighs and explains, “Zhenya love. Love childs. And not have, now. So…” She shrugs. “I’m sad.”

_Oh_, Sid thinks. He checks, “You’re sad because… you think Geno’s not going to have kids? Children?”

She nods.

Well, _that_ is a problem Sid can actually solve, which makes him feel ten feet tall. He rushes to tell her, unable to keep a wide smile from taking over his face, “No, Mama, we—we are. Me and Geno, we are going to have kids – we talked about it, and we both want that.”

But she doesn’t smile back at him; her expression doesn’t change at all. Patiently, she tells him, “Want, yes, Sid. Is why sad. Because want. But not have.”

“But... we—we _can_ have kids,” Sid responds, bewildered. “We _will_ have kids.”

“Sid.” She walks up to him and cups his cheek, looking at him as if he’s very dear and very stupid. “Two man. Can’t.”

“I mean, not, uh, like, with our bodies,” Sid agrees, miming a pregnant belly and then feeling like a dumbass. “But we’ll, uh…” _Adopt_ is not a word that she’d have any reason to know in English, so Sid whips out his phone and pulls up Google Translate. He types in, “Geno and I talked, and we decided to adopt a baby. Probably we will adopt more than one baby. Not now, but in two or three years.”

He shows her what Google spits out, and waits.

Her pitying look doesn’t change. She takes the phone from him, and when she gives it back, Google Translate tells Sid, “I know the government will let you marry here. But they won’t let you have a baby. No one will give two men a baby. Everyone knows a baby needs a mother.”

“That’s not true,” Sid blurts out. He tries not to be hurt by the _everyone knows_—you can’t totally trust Google Translate, he knows that, and anyway, she’s not necessarily including herself in that _everyone_. He deletes her answer and types in response, “In America, two men can have a baby. There are families like that. The law says it’s okay. They have to let us.”

She doesn’t look convinced, so Sid goes to the browser on his phone and pulls up the first article he can find about same-sex adoption, and puts it through Google Translate, too.

When she reads it, her eyes go wide, and she looks up at him several times as if checking his face for confirmation of what she’s reading. When she’s finished, she hands him the phone and looks at the ground.

“Mama?”

Natalia’s shoulders are shaking, Sid notices suddenly, and when he kneels to look up at her face, he can see the gleam of tears at the corners of her eyes.

Five minutes ago, Sid felt ten feet tall – now he feels utterly helpless. “Oh, Mama,” he says, reaching for her hands, “don’t cry, please don’t cry—”

“I’m happy,” she says, cupping Sid’s cheek again – this time she’s smiling, even through her tears. “Cry because happy. Oh, Sid.”

It takes her a moment to collect herself; Sid gets up and puts his arm around her shoulders, trying to radiate support. She allows it for almost a minute before wiping her tears, businesslike, and walking over to the Kleenex box on the nightstand to blow her nose. Then she turns to look out the window again. After a moment of quiet, she says with conviction, “America _amazing_.”

Recognizing that this is not the moment to announce, _Canada has same-sex adoption, too! We had it first!_, Sid keeps his mouth shut.

Suddenly, Natalia’s head swings around and she gives him a piercing look. “You say… you and Zhenya say about this.”

Long experience with people learning English has taught Sid that “say,” “talk,” and “tell” should be treated as interchangeable. “Uh, yeah,” he replies, unsure where she’s going with this, “me and Geno, we talked about having kids, a couple months ago.”

“So Zhenya _know_,” she says, eyes narrowing.

Sid blinks. “Uh…”

“Zhenya _know_, and Zhenya not _say_ me – oh, I’m—” She switches into Russian at that point, and a combination of tone of voice and a few words Sid recognizes from his own paltry Russian vocabulary leads him to loosely translate the end of the sentence as _I’m going to kick his ass_.

His conclusion is confirmed when Natalia marches out of the room and down the hall with every line of her body promising trouble for whoever is at the end of her warpath.

Sid follows her and tries to open the bond wide enough that Geno will have at least a little warning of what’s coming.

Geno, of course, is right in the middle of the living room, surrounded by a crowd of guests when his mother arrives. At least a few of those guests speak Russian, so when Natalia smacks her son on the arm and starts berating him, there’s a handful of very interested onlookers whose eyes go wide and who start gossiping among themselves immediately.

“Oh, no,” Sid moans, because he can just imagine how this is going to go.

Sure enough, the news spreads like a bad cold between the Russian speakers in the room while the English speakers pester them to translate – the last layer of secrecy preventing this from becoming the talk of the party finally vanishes when Victoria Gonchar says, in a voice loud enough to cut through the crowd, “Oh my god, of course Sid and Zhenya are going to have babies, how is that _news_?”

“Oh, Sid, congratulations!” Vero says, beaming, and a chorus of other congratulations follows. Sid has to announce over and over, to anyone within earshot, “We’re not having a baby _yet_, this is still a couple of years away—”

And then, predictably, Tanger exclaims, “Wait, Geno is _pregnant_?”

Sid mashes his right hand into his face, in lieu of slapping himself in said face with said hand repeatedly. _Why is everyone in my life such a fucking troll?_

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Horny says, frowning. “It should be Sid – Geno doesn’t have good hips for birth, too narrow.”

Geno has escaped from his mom at this point, and he wheels on Horny, outraged. “You take back,” he demands. “I’m _best_ hips!” He turns unerringly toward Sid despite Sid’s best efforts to hide behind the Quebecois WAGs and insists, “Sid, you tell Horny I’m best hips!”

Sid contemplates trying to bring sanity to this conversation and concludes that there’s no point. “Your hips are the best hips,” he agrees, and then flees to what he hopes will be the relative safety of the far corner of the room, where Nathalie and Mario are sipping champagne with Jen and a few other members of the front office staff.

He must look about as hunted as he feels, because Jen pats him on the shoulder and says, “Poor Sid – all these people talking about his personal life.” She doesn’t bother to hide her amusement.

“Poor Sid,” Mario responds, eyes twinkling, “all these people so happy for him.”

“Ugh, don’t,” Sid mumbles. “This is a shitshow.”

“No, this is Christmas,” Nathalie says, serenely.

Out of politeness, Sid keeps his mouth shut, but the look on his face must betray his skepticism.

Nathalie smiles and passes her champagne flute to Mario so she can take Sid’s hands in her own. “Now, Sid,” she says, raising an eyebrow. “A room full of people rejoicing at the good news of a child coming into the world – what could be more in the Christmas spirit than that?”

Sid can’t help returning her smile, albeit reluctantly – after all, she’s right, isn’t she? Sid isn’t religious, but even for him, those are the things Christmas is about: shared joy, being together with friends and family, catching up on the good news in their lives and celebrating new additions to the circle of those beloved.

“You’re right,” he says, pulling her into a hug. “Like always.”

“Hear, hear,” Mario calls, and he raises his glass. “Good news, and new life!”

Everyone in their little knot of Lemieuxs and staff joins in the toast, clinking their glasses together.

Through the crowd, Sid catches sight of Natalia talking to Vladimir on the far side of the room – on Vladimir’s face is the same disbelief, and then, dawning hope, that his wife had worn earlier tonight. As Sid watches, Vladimir suddenly hides his face in his hands, overcome, and Natalia pulls him into an embrace.

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light,” Jen recites quietly – when Sid turns to look at her, surprised, her gaze is fixed on Geno’s parents, too. Then she smiles up at Sid and bumps him with her shoulder. “Merry Christmas, Sid.”

Sid returns her shoulder-bump—very gently—and her smile. “Merry Christmas, Jen.”

**Author's Note:**

> All feedback is loved (including concrit)! Just copying and pasting a line or two that stood out to you means a lot.
> 
> I'm also on tumblr as youhideastar!


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